Clockwork Serum
by mikanflower
Summary: The clock is ticking. Time is running out quickly. After Thomas wakes up in a maze with no memories except his name, he needs to figure out why and how he has been placed in the maze, but most importantly, how he can get out. Can he escape before the serum injected into his brain kills him? He and his friends are only lab rats in an experiment, after all.
1. Chapter 1

_Water. That was all he could remember. Being plunged into a tank full of water, feeling like he was going to drown. _

_WICKED is good._

_He was being watched. He knew that he was being watched. He had worked for them._

_WICKED is good. _

_He hadn't had time to say goodbye to her before he was mercilessly yanked away, unable to even whisper the one word "farewell" to her. _

_WICKED is good._

_This was all a test. An experiment. _

_WICKED is good._

_Then, his mind went blank._

* * *

><p>His head terribly aching, he felt dreadfully thirsty. He found himself lying on grass, surrounded by walls made of gray stone and hundreds of feet high. He sat up and accidentally made full eye contact with the sun, wincing and bringing up a hand to shield his eyes.<p>

As if the blinding sunlight had jolted him back to his senses, he suddenly realized his name was Thomas.

Thomas. Was his name the only thing he remembered about himself? He searched his mind, looking for memories about himself, his family, his past life. Nothing.

Great. Well, there was no use groveling over having no memory now.

Getting to his feet with some difficulty, he scanned his surroundings and was instantly reminded of the Greek story of the Minotaur and the labyrinth. Hadn't Theseus or someone used yarn to track his progress in the maze and successfully get back to the start after killing the monster? Wait, some girl had helped him with that. Ariadne, no?

Speaking of which, he needed to find some Ariadnes if he wanted to get out of this place quickly, but unfortunately, he couldn't hear or see anyone else running around in the maze.

Thomas sighed. The eery, almost deafening silence was getting to him. He began to jog, not really sure where he was headed, but in his opinion that didn't really matter. Some part of him hoped he'd get somewhere after running around random places, but he didn't bother to entertain that thought as the probability of that happening was miniscule.

He weaved his way through the maze. Left. Right. Turn around after facing a dead end. Right. Right. Left. Right. Another dead end.

This was going to take forever, and he was sure he was going to get nowhere. However, he glanced up at the sky and was surprised to see the former harsh glare of the sun soften a bit. Perhaps it was getting late. Had he really been running for a long time? Thomas didn't even feel tired.

Well, he was going to have to take a break soon. His speed constant, he ran for another half hour or so before stopping in front of a river. Oh, _good._ He kneeled down in front of the river and leaned in to cup his hands and scoop the cool water out, drinking greedily from his hands. After quenching his thirst, he splashed some water over his face to rinse the sweat off.

The peace was suddenly disturbed when he heard shouting from far away. So there were other people here? Fear shot through his system. What if they were out to kill him? Oh, it really didn't matter now. He didn't have a shot at escaping the maze anyway.

"It's another one. Another one's shown up."

"Hey, a greenie!"

Were they talking about him?

Thomas felt a sudden surge of panic rush through him. He had been spotted. He needed to get out of here now.

He scrambled to his feet and made an effort to dash away from the source of noise as quickly as possible, adrenaline pumping through his veins and causing him to run faster than he had ever run before. Running made him feel calm for some reason.

But calm didn't matter now. There were people out to get him.

"Hey, greenie! Slim it! We're not gonna hurt you, ya know!" What did "slim it" and "greenie" even mean? Thomas wasn't so sure, but that wasn't going to stop him from running away any time soon. In fact, the comment only made him increase his speed.

"He's fast, he's really fast," someone commented with a laugh that closely resembled a bark. Thomas glanced back over his shoulder and immediately regretted his decision. Close on his heels were two boys: a dark-skinned, tall boy with short-cropped hair and a clean-shaven face and, worst of all, a tall, attractive Asian with muscly arms and short, black hair who looked slightly older than him.

God, he was so hot.

Right after having this thought, Thomas tripped over a tree root and ungraciously fell flat on his face. Before he knew it, he was pulled to his feet by the Asian boy. Confused and dazed from the impact, Thomas tried to run away from his captor once again, but the older boy held a tight grip on his arm.

"What do you want with me?" Thomas panted, wishing nothing more than to get away from them.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the dark-skinned boy said, holding up his hands. "Slim it. New to the maze, eh?"

"No, _Admiral Alby_, he's just running around like a shuckin' chicken without its head just cause," the Asian boy replied, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Minho, you're not helpin'," Alby retorted, rolling his eyes. He turned to Thomas with a small smile. "Sorry, Minho likes to be a sassy klunk at times."

"_All_ the time, you mean," Minho cut in and was rewarded with a glare from Alby.

"Whatever. Minho, you can let go of this greenie's arm now," Alby said, glancing at Minho's unrelenting hold. "I mean, unless you _like_ it-"

"Oh, _please_," Minho huffed, promptly dropping Thomas' arm and stepping away from him. "Hey, ya gotta have a name, right?"

"Yeah, uh, it's Thomas," Thomas answered, his other hand reaching down to rub the part of his right arm where Minho had grabbed it earlier. Was it strange to say Thomas had sort of liked the older boy clutching his arm? Besides, he was so... beautiful. Wait, what?

If he was starting to have these sorts of thoughts about the older boy, Thomas was definitely a goner.

"Pleased to meet you, Thomas," Alby said, offering his hand to shake. Thomas reluctantly shook it. "I'm Alby, by the way."

"How do I know you're not going to kill me?" Thomas asked before he could stop himself.

"You don't," Alby said plainly. "But we aren't. Shanks gotta stay together, right?"

"'Shank'?" Thomas asked, growing more confused by the slang Minho and Alby were using.

"Means friend," Alby answered patiently. "Let's go."

Something felt weird. Thomas didn't know if he could immediately trust these guys. What if his suspicions were right, and all they wanted was not another ally but just someone to use?

"And why would I go with you guys when I still don't trust you?" Thomas crossed his arms protectively.

"Slim it and just freakin' come with us, you dong!" Minho suddenly burst out. "Seriously, what's your deal?"

"Fine!" Thomas said exasperatedly. "Just cool it, would you?"

"_Slim_ it," Minho corrected him. "If you're gonna join us shanks, you'll have to learn our vocabulary."

"Good that," Alby agreed.

Thomas threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, whatever. Lead the way."

Satisfied with Thomas' reaction, Alby and Minho took off at a speed that would put Hermes to shame. Seriously, how were they able to run so fast? Thomas tried not to get too far behind, but it was proving to be pretty difficult.

"Come on, newbie!" Minho taunted. "You won't last long if you're that slow."

As if the taunt had triggered something in his brain, Thomas found his mind clearing up and running faster than ever. It took about a minute for him to catch up to the others.

"Not bad," Alby commented as they continued to run. "We don't have much time before dark, so I'm just going to give you some information. Minho and I have been in the maze for a year now, but I went earlier than him. There's one more person in our group, and his name is Newt." Thomas swore he could see Alby's cheeks redden a bit. "Anyway, the four of us aren't the only ones here. We've seen other groups of boys running around the maze too, but we haven't talked to them yet. Nighttime is the most dangerous part of the day because that's when the Grievers come out."

"Grievers?" Thomas asked. Judging from the way Alby had said the word Grievers with a disgusted shudder, Grievers sounded really nasty.

"They're monsters. You'll know them when you see one. The only way we've survived so far is by getting rest in the morning and staying awake at night."

"You're shuckin' screwed if you dare to sleep at night," Minho warned.

"What happens if you get caught by one?" Thomas wanted to know.

Minho and Alby simultaneously glanced at Thomas with an unreadable look. "I don't even want to know. Just don't get caught by one, that's all I'll say," Alby replied.

Alby's answer didn't satisfy Thomas, but it seemed like the two boys were not in the mood to discuss the monsters.

"We're always on the move because the Grievers can catch us if we stay put in a place for too long," Alby said after a period of silence. "And we're here." The boys seemed to be camped near a river, backpacks and supplies strewn over the ground ten feet away from the coursing water. Lush greenery surrounded them, the trees taller than one would expect and the flowers growing vibrantly. The sunlight reflected off the surface of the river, giving it an almost surreal shimmer.

A boy with blonde hair that swept over his shoulders and a square jaw frowned at the approaching group, his arms crossed and his foot tapping impatiently. "Bloody hell, where _were_ you two?" he demanded with a heavy British accent. "I thought the Grievers got you!" He narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "And who the klunk is _this_?"

"Hello to you too," Minho greeted casually.

"His name is Thomas," Alby answered. "And he's joining us."

"More like he forced me to join him," Thomas mumbled, earning a glower from Minho and Alby.

"Another buggin' shank to look after," Newt grumbled, not very happy with the whole situation. "Oh, alright. If you must."

Thomas studied the supplies that were lying on the grass. "Where do you get the supplies?"

"We find them in random places," Alby replied, glancing at the tools. "It's like someone knew we needed them and put them right there."

"What if there was someone like that?" Thomas asked and immediately regretted his question. He was greeted by a stiff wall of silence that seemed to be thicker than the stone walls themselves.

Minho broke the uncomfortable stillness. "Then they're a shuckin' slinthead." He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted at the sky, "Whoever is behind all of this, you're a shuckin' ass, and I hope you rot in hell!"

"_Minho_!" Newt scolded. "I don't even want to know what'll happen if someone hears that."

"We aren't going to," Alby jumped in. "Because it's getting dark, and we should rest up for a bit."

"Where?" Thomas wondered.

"Use your klunk of a brain for once, will ya?" Minho muttered under his breath. "Where do you think we can sleep?"

"Maybe up in the trees?" Thomas suggested, looking up at the trees. Climbing higher up would provide them the height needed to avoid monsters.

"Yeah, all we just need to do is scale a, I don't know, twenty-foot tree with a ninety-percent chance of falling and breaking our necks," Minho said sarcastically. "Excellent first idea from a greenie."

Minho's attitude was starting to get on Thomas' nerves. "I don't know," Thomas shot back. "What other brilliant plan do you have, then?"

As the two boys began to argue over who was smarter than the other, Newt and Alby heard a mechanical whirring from twenty feet away and froze. "Both of you, shut up. Now," Alby snapped.

Minho got the hint and obeyed, but Thomas was clueless. "What's going on?" he asked, completely oblivious to what was happening.

Minho clapped a hand over Thomas' mouth to shut him up. "Grievers?" he whispered.

"Yes," Newt responded, his face paling.

* * *

><p>Hey guys! Call me Audrey. Apologies for the short and crappy first chapter; I'm trying to get adjusted to fic-writing and the Maze Runner series in general. (I have some experience with role-playing and writing characters, but I've only been doing it for two years.) I know the beginning seems boring and too similar to the book, but I assure you there are a lot of differences. I promise to do my very best to provide lengthy updates and a<em>maze<em> you with them (kudos to anyone who spotted the pun, it was necessary)

I recently watched the movie (SO good) and have been reading the books, but since I don't know the characters from the Scorch Trials and the Death Cure too well, I've decided not to include them in here (sorry to Brenda, Jorge, and Aris fans). However, if I think this fic is going on well, I am considering creating a spinoff with them.

Please shoot me a PM if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, or if you just want to talk! (Also PLEASE give me constructive criticism and tips on how to play these characters better. I'm slightly worried about how to play Alby and Newt. Surprisingly, Minho comes easy to me.) I'm open to anything. (And if you hate it I am so so so so sorry because this is my first time writing a fic.)


	2. Chapter 2

Grievers. Alby had defined them earlier as the monsters roaming the Maze, and judging by the way the older boy had said it, Thomas assumed they were extremely unpleasant. As soon as the word "grievers" hit his ears, he shut up, his eyes widening while he held his breath in suspense.

"D'you have weapons nearby?" Minho muttered to Newt.

"I only have one on me," Newt said somewhat apologetically. "The rest are on the ground 'bout five feet away from us." Alby cursed under his breath. He could barely see anything in the darkness, though the bright moonlight helped his vision out just a little. The moon's rays pierced the water and bounced off the plants, bathing them in a shimmery glow.

Thomas was eager to help out no matter what, not realizing the Griever was coming closer and closer. He pushed Minho's hand away from his mouth and offered, "I could go get them."

The other boys stared at Thomas, half in disbelief and half in annoyance. Grabbing Thomas' shoulder and jerking him around, Minho leaned in to whisper in his ear. "You really are an idiot, huh? There's a shuckin' _Griever_ nearby, and you, greenie, want to blabber about how much you want to save the day? Are you jacked?"

"I only said I-" Thomas began to protest, but Minho clapped a hand over the younger boy's mouth again. "_Shut. Up._" This time, Thomas obeyed, suppressing the urge to punch Minho.

During their argument, Alby had managed to retrieve a couple of weapons and passed three knives to Newt, who handed one to Minho and one to Thomas. "Best learn how to defend yourself now before ya get eaten," Newt said in a hushed voice.

"Prime sitch to get a newbie into," Alby mumbled. Newt and Minho softly snickered in response, though their laugh sounded more somber than derisive.

The mechanical whirring coming from the Griever had a metallic ring every few seconds, like knives rubbing against each other. The noise grew louder by the second as the monster began to close the distance between it and the boys, a series of eerie clicks combining with a hollow moan and clanking sounds.

"That sound gives me the willies," Newt whispered with a small shudder, fear creeping into his voice.

"Good. You'll need them," Minho snickered, his body pressing into Thomas closer as he sidestepped Newt's punch. In the cool darkness of the night, Thomas could feel his cheeks heat up. He looked away from the older boy and tried not to concentrate on the rise and fall movement of Minho's warm chest, instead becoming suddenly very interested in his knife.

Alby peered at the monster and tried to gauge the distance between it and him. Roughly ten feet away. He turned towards the other two to find Minho dodging Newt's fists and Thomas now almost buried in Minho's upper body.

"You two, get your heads out of your shuckin' asses!" he snapped, staring at Newt and Minho angrily as his dark brown eyes flickered to Thomas' current situation. Just as the two boys were stepping away from each other and Minho was releasing Thomas, the whirring and clicking noises increased in volume.

The Griever seemed to be biding its time, calmly and carefully, as if it were calculating its next move. Apprehension gripped Thomas like a vice. He wanted to panic, to scream, but he knew he couldn't. He'd get everyone killed.

The boys clenched their knives tightly as the Griever approached. Five feet. Four… Why was it slowing down?

The anticipation was killing Thomas, but he kept watching and waiting.

He had made the right decision.

In a sudden burst of light and sound, the Griever began to accelerate, rolling towards the boys in an impossibly quick speed.

"Run!" Minho yelled. The other boys didn't even need to consider it.

Adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream and energizing him, Thomas fled from the Griever. He didn't think about where he should go or what he should do, but in the heat of the moment, all he could think of was to run for his life.

"Look at that shank go," Alby commented, referring to Thomas. He was half-carrying Newt as he ran, but he seemed perfectly fine. Thomas wondered if Newt had walking problems. That didn't sound particularly pleasant in a place where one would have to be aware 24/7. Perhaps Alby was used to supporting Newt while running. Minho, on the other hand, stayed behind the pair.

"Bloody hell, just go in front of us!" Newt yelled.

Thomas glanced backwards to take a look at the Grievers and wanted to gag at the image. It was something he had seen before behind the safety of thick glass, but he was transfixed by the horrifying image.

Part animal, part machine, the Griever rolled and clicked after them, its body resembling a giant slug. Covered in hair and glistening with slime, it was at least six feet long and four feet thick. From time to time, sharp metal spikes protruded from its flesh and receded back with a disgusting slurping sound. Several randomly placed mechanical arms stuck out from its body, each with a different purpose, and the lights attached to the Griever's body shone brightly, casting an eerie shadow on the ground.

"'Bloody hell', do you have a death wish?" Minho asked, avoiding the Grievers' dancing arms. The way Minho gracefully ducked, twisted, and turned emulated a ballerina, lightly and daintily spinning around and around.

"Says the shank doing a buggin' tango with that shuck," Newt retorted.

Before Minho could respond, Alby shouted, "Minho, just do what Newt said! Greenie has no idea where he's going anyway."

"Not my fault if you two die," Minho answered, but he obeyed Alby. "Newbie, not too fast! You'll run into a wall." But by that time, Thomas was too far away to hear Minho.

"Damn" was the only thing the Korean boy muttered exasperatedly before lowering his head and sprinting even more quickly, gritting his teeth. Meanwhile, Thomas kept running, feeling lighter and more free with every step he took, as if he were going to melt into thin air, become one with the wind.

"He's _so_ fast!" Minho commented, but he was slowly and steadily catching up to Thomas. Hearing a loud yelp, Thomas turned around to see Alby yanking a syringe out from Newt's thigh and tossing it into the grass.

"Bloody hurt," Newt hissed, but he unslung his arm from around Alby's shoulder and began to run, just as quickly as Minho and Alby.

"What was that all about?" Thomas wondered out loud.

"Damn it, Curious George, can we do the questions later?" Minho asked, finally reaching Thomas and roughly grabbing his shoulder. Thomas yelped in surprise, a small blush creeping across his cheeks. "Slim it, greenie, we're outrunning that shuck thing."

"Is this how you've survived for all this time?" If this was how the boys managed to survive, then there was a reason for their heightened abilities.

Thomas' feet were going faster than his mind. No, that wasn't true. Both were functioning at a higher rate than normal. What did "normal" even mean in the maze anyway? Judging from the other boys' physicality and mentality, their capabilities were far from average.

_Of course Thomas knew. He had been there when they had performed the operation. He had watched the entire thing, but he had been the "special" one._

"Pretty much," Minho said, sounding sheepish for the first time, as he ran besides Thomas.

"Uh, I don't think they're outrunning the Griever," Thomas observed, glancing backwards to check on their predicament. In fact, it seemed like the monster was catching up to them. It had curled up into a ball and was gaining more speed by the second.

"There's anotha' one!" Newt shrieked, barely managing to dodge a mechanical claw stretching from a Griever that had joined the chaos a couple of minutes earlier.

"Lovely," Minho quipped. Just then, an idea flashed in Thomas' mind. Clever was the last thing it was, but Thomas was fairly confident his plan was going to work.

_He had seen everything, anyway. He knew what was going to happen._

"Minho, give me your knife," Thomas said. "Like, now. I need it."

"And why should I give you my only method of self-defense?" Minho rolled his eyes. "You want me to get killed?"

"I promise, it's going to save all of us," Thomas pleaded, glancing backwards again. The Griever spheres were mere inches away from reaching the boys.

"I don't even know anymore." Minho tossed Thomas his knife. "Nice meeting you."

Catching it smoothly with a confident air, Thomas twirled the weapon around in his fingers before turning around and taking off at full speed in the... opposite direction?

"What the _shuck_ are you doing?" Minho yelled, fear gripping his voice as he wheeled around to trace the younger boy's steps. He was going to get himself killed in an attempt to save all of them, and all Minho was going to be able to do was just watch, but for the next few seconds, he couldn't believe what was going on right in front of him.

In a matter of seconds, Thomas closed the distance between himself and the monsters, pulling out the other knife Alby had given him earlier. Without stopping, he brought his right arm back and sent it flying through the air and lodging itself in a Griever's face. The monster stopped in its tracks and let out a horrible shriek, squirming as its limbs violently thrashed about. In a flash, he ran to it and cut off all of its arms with Minho's knife, his left hand jerking out to retrieve his knife from its face and immediately blocking a Griever which had attempted to take advantage of his momentary weakness and attack him from the behind by whirling around and sticking the weapon in its face.

Now that the dismembered monster was dead, Thomas set to work on the other one. As the Griever fell backwards on the grass with a loud _thud_ and an another terrible screech, the boy hacked off its arms once again, studying it for a full minute before walking to the other corpse to recover his knife.

Newt and Alby, who had fled the Grievers as soon as Thomas had approached, stood with Minho, watching all of this in mixed awe and shock. How come a _greenie_ had killed _two_ Grievers in one shot while they had ran away from the monsters for all the months they had spent in the Maze? Minho, who was the most surprised of the boys, could only blink at Thomas as if trying to decipher him.

"Didn't think you'd be so turned on by someone killing a Griever," Alby grinned, winking at Minho, and was greeted with a murderous glare. "Come on, don't deny you enjoyed it."

"Ye, you were obviously lovin' tha' show," Newt piped up.

"Both of you, shut your shucking mouths," Minho muttered. Were his cheeks tinged with a light blush? It was difficult to tell in the glistening moonlight.

The trio walked over to Thomas, who looked like he was dissecting one of the corpses. "Power button, there has to be a way to turn it off," he muttered, sweat beading his brow as he probed the body.

"What the _shuck_ are you doing?" Minho asked, more out of disgust than out of curiosity. "Why are you messing with a dead Griever? That's nasty."

However, Thomas seemed to be more engrossed in his work than interested in conversing with the others. "Or an activation switch, there needs to be one," he continued to say under his breath. The three boys stood in silence for five minutes as Thomas made new incisions in the corpse and kept looking, directing his attention to the opening in the Griever's face.

Something about the process was bothering Alby, although he didn't know why. A glazed look shrouded Thomas' eyes as he worked with robotic movements which immediately disappeared when he twisted around to proclaim, "I found it!"

The red power button was implanted in the Griever's face, small in capacity and its diameter being only four centimeters. The knife had made a dent in the button, destroying the glass and crushing the circuitry.

"They must have changed the location," Thomas mumbled, reverting to his trance-like state. "Last time, it was in a far more visible place. The Variables are going to get only even more challenging..."

Before the boys could say anything else, Thomas crumpled to the ground.

* * *

><p>Sorry for the long wait, I was super busy ;~; But I do love cliffhangers!<p>

Hope this chapter was okay! I'd like to clarify something that I didn't in the first chapter, and I want to apologize for that. The maze is big enough, and at certain sections, the maze walls are far from each other enough so that there are rivers and trees around. I'll be more mindful about that in the future.

So, what do you guys think? Do you think the operation had an impact on their physical and mental abilities as well or just their memories?


End file.
